


Eight Minutes Waning

by spikesgirl58



Series: The Twelve Fics of Christmas [19]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: Napoleon and Illya  spend their first Christmas together in a ski cabin drinking hot cocoa and exchanging gifts





	

“Brr, it’s cold outside.” Napoleon Solo stamped the snow from his very expensive Italian shoes.  He took off his tailored topcoat and hung it up carefully in the closet.  He liked money.  He liked expensive things, but he could remember a time when he had neither.  That made him all the more careful now.  Some people saw it as arrogance and that was just fine with him.  A good spy knew how to hide in plain sight.

“You’re weak, Cowboy.” Illya Kuryakin looked up from the chessboard he’d been studying for the past five minutes. “You need to toughen up.”  He went back to the board, but watched his partner from the corner of his eye.  The opposite of Napoleon, Illya wore a black turtleneck that could be bought in any clothing store.  His slacks were off the rack as were the boots he wore.  His personal allowance from the KGB never encouraged a well-tailored look and Illya preferred to spend was few rubles he had on food and drink.

“Not all of us have anti-freeze for blood, Peril.” Napoleon headed for the fire.  He snagged a bottle of brandy on the way.  “Have we heard from Gaby?”  He poured equal measures into two glasses.

“ _Da_.  She sends her regards from Barcelona and the microdot is being delivered as we speak.  She is going to stay and enjoy the warmth.”

”Good for her.” Napoleon passed a glass to the blond and settled down beside him.  “Who’s winning?”

“At the moment, me.” Illya moved a red knight and picked up a white rook. “Check.”

Napoleon smiled and reached over to knock the rook from square and replace it with white king. “Checkmate.  Truthfully, Peril, your attention isn’t what it should be these days.  Seems like a rest is just what we all need.”

“What? How did you…?”  Illya stared at the board and grunted.  “Obviously, it’s an American set.”

“Pay up. We agreed.”

Illya sighed and downed his drink in one swallow. Setting the glass aside, he captured Napoleon’s face between two large hands and kissed him as was his custom, hard and aggressively.  It was nice to have a male lover who could give as good as he got.  Illya liked women just fine, but he was always afraid that he would hurt them.  He was not a man drawn to tenderness.  His upbringing had been fraught with danger and hardship.  He’d had to learn how to fight at an early age.  It had taken much more time to learn when not to and there were moments when he forgot.

The kiss left Napoleon panting and his eyes studied Illya’s.

“Is good?”

“Very good.” Napoleon smiled and adjusted his trousers slightly.  “I can tell it’s going to be a interesting weekend.”  Illya’s answering smile was sly, almost bashful.  Napoleon knew Illya would never initiate their lovemaking.  He preferred to let Napoleon make the opening move.  Napoleon leaned back and shut his eyes, still tasting Illya in his mouth.  “A very interesting weekend, indeed.  Tell me, Peril, have you ever read the _Kama Sutra_?”

“For strictly education purpose, yes. It was… helpful during my time with the KGB.”

“Do you miss the USSR, Illya?” Napoleon switched from his nickname for his partner.

“Yes, there are moments when I miss it very much.” His face grew somber.  One of the conditions of Illya’s employment with UNCLE was his ‘defection’ to the West.  The government knew better, as did the KGB, but to his parents, his family and his friends, Illya had defected.  At least his father was back in Moscow and out of the harsh Siberian climate.  That had been another condition.  Whether he stayed out of the Lubyanka was up to him.  Illya had paid for his father’s freedom with his reputation.   “I miss ice skating in Red Square and St. Basil’s Cathedral lit up and snow covered.  I miss my grandmother’s sauerkraut and my mother’s _Pagach_.”

“Her what? It sounds like obscene.”

“Everything is to you, Cowboy. _Pagach_ is a bread that is first drenched in honey.”

“Honey?”

“It represents the sweetness of life. Then it is rolled in raw garlic.  That is for the bitterness that life offers us.  It reminds us that you can only savor life’s joys by experiencing its sorrows.”  Illya face grew sad and he looked away into the fire, as if it could transport him to a way of life forever closed now to him.

“No wonder you are all such a cheery lot.” Napoleon stood and walked to the small kitchenette in their cabin.  He could hear the wind howling as he passed a leaky window.  The shock of the cold breeze made him move as far away as possible.  He dug around in the cupboard for a pot and reached into the tiny refrigerator.  He remembered to shake the milk before pouring it into the pot.  It was fresh this morning and to his way of thinking, fresh was the key to everything.   He began to whistle, _Baby, It’s Cold Outside._

“What are you doing?” Illya sounded only vaguely interested.

“Making something for you.” That perked up Illya. He didn’t cook as a rule and he had quickly learned to appreciate that aspect of his partner.  Napoleon was an excellent cook and Illya, well, he was an excellent eater.  “Tell you what, I could use your knife skills in here.”  Napoleon took out a white sack and put it on the small table

Granted the cabin wasn’t very big, Illya was there in two long strides.   He picked up a knife and emptied the bag.  Three individually wrapped packages fell out.  “What are these?”

“Well, not your mother’s _Pagach_ , but I know gingerbread figures into your tradition as well and it goes better with what I’m making.”

Illya laughed, something he rarely did. “Yes, I like gingerbread very much.”

“Why don’t you take it to the fire and I’ll be along?”

When Napoleon resettled himself on the small couch, the gingerbread had been neatly and evenly cut. Illya was stoking the fire and the sight of his muscles rippling beneath his shirt was enough to stoke Napoleon’s.

Illya dusted off his hands and joined him. What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Excellent.” Illya picked up the closest mug and sipped.  “This is very good.”

Napoleon appeared slightly crestfallen. “I didn’t know you’d ever had it before.”

Illya grinned. “Contrary to what you think in the West, we do have life’s necessities and even some of its niceties.  You used very good chocolate for this.  Belgium?”

“Swiss. And speaking of such, I got you this.”  Napoleon reached down beside the couch and pulled out a box.  “Here.”

“What is this?” Illya turned the box over in his hands.

“Open it.”

“It is not Christmas. Not even for your Christmas and mine is in January.”

“Eight minutes, it’s close enough.”

“Then I suppose…” Illya rose and walked to where his suitcase stood open.  A moment of poking and he retrieved a small gift wrapped box.  “… that I have something for you as well.”  He tossed the gift to Napoleon who caught it easily.

Napoleon laughed. “I never expect this from you, Peril.”

“Right back at you, Cowboy. It was not too long ago that I would have happily killed you.”  Illya retook his seat.

“It wasn’t from a lack of trying.” He smiled at the memory.  “I wasn’t even sure you were human.  I’m still not.”

“Good.” Illya began to carefully open the taped end of the box. 

“You can rip it.”

“I would rather not. This is my first American gift.  I may well need to return it.  According to Gaby, I am supposed to ask for the receipt.”  He managed to keep a straight face for all of a minute.  “I am joking, Cowboy.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to.”

“Excellent.” Illya eased the paper off and opened the box.  “It’s a watch.”

“Not just a watch. It’s a Swiss made watch with a few UNCLE improvements.”  Napoleon reached over and carefully removed Illya’s father’s watch, then slipped the other one on.  “This you can keep safe at home or in a safety deposit box.  This one, you can use as a compass, a detonator or a locator.  Oh, and as an added bonus, it tells time.”

Illya studied the watch for a moment. “It is quite probably the best gift I have ever received, Napoleon.  Thank you.”

Napoleon nodded. “You are welcomed.”  He returned to his gift.  In the small box were two cufflinks.  The stone was blood red with black veins.

“It is Russian edialitye. It also carries a tracking device and can be used as an explosive, although the range is limited.”

“Thank you, Illya. I will wear them with pride.”  Napoleon lunged forward, the movement sending Illya back onto the cushion.  He straddled the Russian and leaned down for a long, self-satisfying kiss.  “And now if you don’t mind, I’d like to unwrap my other Christmas gift.”

“I don’t…” Illya trailed off as Napoleon’s fingers found the hem of his shirt and lifted it.  The little mantle clock chimed midnight and Illya pulled the shirt over his head.  “Oh, that sort of unwrapping.  It’s about time.  You are very slow, Cowboy.”

“You have no idea just how slow I can be.”

Outside the wind howled and the snow chased itself in a frenzied ballet. Ice crackled from the cold and even the stars shivered, but none of it mattered to either man inside.  They had their love to keep them warm.

 

 


End file.
